Chapter 6 Elizabeth #3
“You know,” I say, thinking of Natalya and his comments about escorts. “Carrow doesn’t really strike me as the type to share, but I don’t know him well.”
A flash of something dark crosses his face, gone before I’m sure I saw it.
“No,” he agrees. “He’s not.”
There is something in the way he says it that makes my skin prickle. This man doesn’t like Carrow any more than I do. And for some reason, that puts me at ease.
“So, you aren’t one of Carrow’s friends?” I don’t know why it’s so important to me that he’s not.
“No. We have intertwined business interests.”
“That’s vague.”
“Deliberately so.” He flashes another grin.
I want to be annoyed but there is something about his easy smile that makes me realize I’m enjoying the banter. “What kind of business?”
He makes a tsking sound. “Against the rules. I’m adding ‘no identifying details’ to our previous no-names rule.”
My mouth twitches. “Okay, Mr. Tall, Dark and Mysterious, but you realize that sounds like something a man with secrets would say.”
“Everyone has secrets,” he replies. “But strangers are better at keeping them. Particularly strangers in masks.”
I take a sip of the scotch, to avoid the sudden serious look in his eyes. “This might be the riskiest thing I’ve done in years.”
“Having a drink with a masked stranger?” His mask bounces again, and I imagine him waggling his eyebrows.
The laugh rolls out before I can stop it. “Yes. Believe it or not, I lead a very staid, controlled life.”
He cocks his head. “That doesn’t sound like much fun.”
My humor evaporates. “Fun is overrated. I’ll take peace if I can get it.”
“Not a risk taker then?”
“Used to be,” I evade. “But it’s been a while since I hid in a dark room.”
“You never said who you were hiding from in here.”
“I’ll tell you, when you tell me why you were sitting in here with only one lamp on?” I challenge.
“Fair enough. I’m in here because I was supposed to have a meeting with several people tonight, and they are jerking me around. More interested in drinking than business.” His smile is wicked. “Your turn.”
My heart skips a beat. I don’t want to tell him. It will put a pall over this moment, and I realize how much I don’t want that to happen. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this comfortable with someone. Appropriate he’s a stranger.
I must not have done an outstanding job of hiding my thoughts because his spine snaps straight, jaw clenching.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” The sudden shift in his mood is alarming.
His fierce gaze goes to the door, and his nostrils flare. “Did one of those assholes do something?”
My mouth falls open. “No, of course not.” Why would he even think that?
I can only see half of his face, but the way his jaw is flexing, he’s furious.
“I’m serious. No one did anything. I just didn’t…” Fuck it. “I didn’t want someone to see me.”
We stare at each other for several moments while he apparently decides whether or not he believes me before his shoulders drop. “Who?”
I sigh. “My ex-husband.”
“Not still friends?”
I huff a humorless laugh. “Hardly. And seeing as how he had his tongue down someone’s throat, I’m guessing he doesn’t want to see me either.”
I take another slow sip, letting the burn fortify me as the silence stretches between us.
“We should probably go,” I say eventually, glancing toward the door.
He leans a hip casually against the desk, studying me over the rim of his glass. “If you want to.”
I hesitate. “Maybe wait five minutes.”
His eyebrow quirked. “Why?”
“The ex? He’s in the hall with another guest.” I make a comical grimace, happy that this time there’s no heartache in the statement. Whether that is because of the Scotch or the sexy, mysterious man in front of me is up for debate.
He laughs, a low, rich sound that sends another wave of heat through me. “Messy.”
“You have no idea.” I smirk. “Don’t worry. They won’t be occupied long.”
“Ouch.”
I lift my eyebrows, taking another sip. “Just stating the truth. Then again, he has no problem holding on to his girlfriends. I guess it was just me he wasn’t attracted to.”
“You don’t strike me as the woe-is-me type.”
“I’m not.” I bristle at the insinuation.
“Then just admit he cheated because he’s a dick. It’s really not any deeper than that.” He drains the last of his drink and sets it on the desk with a soft click. “Because you sure as fuck know it has nothing to do with how you look.” His eyes heat again as his gaze trails over my body.
The obvious approval in his slow smile and the anonymity of the situation makes me reckless.
“Maybe I’m just terrible in bed.” I’d meant it to sound sexy. Provocative. But even I hear the needy tone lying just underneath.
“Maybe,” he agrees. “But I doubt it.” He comes closer, and my heart races with anticipation.
“That’s supposition.” My breath hitches when he takes another step, his chest is almost brushing mine.
“True.” He gently twirls the hair that came loose earlier around his finger, and gives it such a light tug, I’m not sure if I imagined it.
Accidental or not, it sends a bolt of electricity straight to my clit, and my breath hitches.
“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?” he murmurs.
“I hope so.”
His eyes lock on me before his head dips, lips claiming mine. I gasp into his mouth, fingers fisting the fabric of his tuxedo jacket, to keep him close.
The slow glide of his mouth over mine sends sensation crashing through me, and when teeth catch my bottom lip, I moan, allowing his tongue to sweep in to tangle with my own.
He answers my sound of pleasure with one of his own, his hand tightening at my waist to anchor me against the hard plane of his body.
The kiss is heat and hunger. Consuming. All of my senses narrow to the man destroying me with every skilled stroke of his tongue.
The scratch of faint stubble against my skin, the taste of scotch on his lips driving me wild.
It feels as if every nerve ending in my body is firing at once as I light up from the inside. I arch into him seeking more contact.
When he pulls back, it’s with obvious reluctance. His eyes glow behind his mask. “Why would you think you were bad in bed? If that kiss is anything to go by—”
“I didn’t say I did.” I feel drunk, even though I’m not. Unless being intoxicated with pheromones is a thing. Right now, it’s a definite possibility because all I can think about is grabbing and kissing him again.
I’ve forgotten about Keith. The party. Or even that there is a world outside of the door.
My entire being focuses on this man. This moment. The unbearable need coursing through me.
His thumb tugs at my lower lip, and his eyes are glued to the slow movement as he rubs it over my mouth.
“I don’t even remember.” I surprise both of us by whispering.
He frowns. “Remember?”
I swallow hard. I can’t believe I’m even thinking about saying the words, but they are out before I can stop them.
“What it feels like to be wanted. What it feels like to be a desirable woman.”
His eyes flare in disbelief, and his thumb moves to stroke beneath my cheekbone, the gentle movement making my ridiculous confession continue to spill forth.
“I work all the time. All the time. When I’m not working, I’m thinking about working.
On top of that, I have to be so unflappable at work I can’t switch it off when I come home.
There, I was supposed to have a partner, but he wanted a traditional wife, and it was apparently my job to have already decided what we’re having for dinner, called the pest control company, arranged his friend’s birthday present.
I had to be in charge everywhere, and it was exhausting.
“How was I supposed to somehow be soft and ready for whatever he wanted in the bedroom after I’d been taking care of everything, including him, all day?
Spoiler alert: My earlier comment about ‘it not taking long.’ Let’s just say foreplay is a far distant memory…
but part of me was happy it didn’t take up too much of my time.
Another thing to check off my to-do list.”
Horrified by the flood of words, I move to pull away from him. Why did I say all that? Trust me to ruin a sexy moment.
Strong palms catch my hips, stopping my retreat, and pivot me until I’m trapped between the desk and his body.
“When was the last time you had an orgasm?” He holds up a finger. “Mechanically assisted by a nonhuman doesn’t count.”
I know my cheeks are blazing, but it’s not the only part of me that’s on fire.
“Don’t be embarrassed. You should be particular about who you let touch this luscious body.” The low rumble makes me shiver.
Somehow, I find myself perched on the edge of the desk, and he’s standing between my knees, the loose skirt of my black cocktail dress pushed to mid-thigh.
The fingertips of his free hand graze down the side of my calf, and I jerk at the light pressure.
His fingertips are rough as they glide against my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“Your skin is so smooth.” He stares at his hands as they explore farther.
Is this really happening?
The contact is so delicate it almost tickles, but it’s sending waves of pleasure up my body. His fingers stroke a little harder, and I squirm on the desk.
“C’mon,” he teases, his fingers delicately probing behind my knee before sliding back to my calf and squeezing. “I won’t tell.”
“Too long to remember?” I try to make it sound like a joke, but it doesn’t sound funny. It sounds like a plea.
“Would you like me to help you remember?” There’s a darkness threaded through the syllables that makes it sound somewhere between a threat and a promise.
He squeezes my calf muscle hard immediately releasing, and I suck in an unexpected breath as the action sends a shock between my legs.
Fuck. What was that?
He makes a low approving noise in his throat. “You like that, don’t you?”
I don’t bother answering. What’s the point?
“Yes or no.” His jaw ticks, and I get the sense that he’s holding his breath.
I nod slowly, not dropping his gaze.
“Words. I need you to say it out loud.”
“Yes, help me remember what it feels like to—”
He cuts off my words when he seals his mouth to mine and kisses me hard. My back arches, my body seeking his.
His lips graze my jaw, the black stitches on his mask scratching my skin.
But it’s not enough to distract me from the lightning shooting down my spine when his palm glides up the inside of my thigh, as his lips continue to devour me.
It’s the only word to describe how his lips slanting over my mouth make me feel.
He pulls my bottom lip into his mouth, and I feel his tongue trace the line before the scrape of his teeth bites down gently.
I’m on fire, and can’t catch my breath. I shove my hands into his hair as if I have to make sure he doesn’t stop even though it’s obvious he has no intention of slowing down.
The ribbon tied over the short hair at the sides of his head slips a little, and I’m tempted to pull it off. I’m out of control. Part of me wonders if I see his face, will it bring me back to reality?
I tip my hips toward him and whimper. He rewards the movement by tracing his thumb firmly over my clit through my panties, pressing with just the right amount of pressure.
“So fucking eager.” He chuckles darkly against my lips when I buck against his hand.
The hand at my hip lifts to hold my head still as his lips completely burn away any hesitation that might still remain. My breasts feel heavy, and my body is screaming for more. He steps back to drag my panties down my legs, and I lift my legs to help him.
His eyes darken as he takes me in. His gaze feels almost as if he’s touching my bare and exposed skin, and I twitch restlessly. It feels decadent to be splayed out in front of him while he is fully clothed.
The air between us tightens, pulling taut with something that feels on the brink of explosive.
“Definitely trouble,” he mutters, stepping between my legs again.
“If you’re lucky,” I manage to say, though it’s more breath than the sass I intended.
His mouth curves into a slow, devastating smile as he traces the line of my mask with one finger.
“Last chance to run.”
I catch his wrist lightly in my fingers, holding him there.
“Maybe.” I tilt my head up toward him. “I do need some fun.”
His hand falls from my mask to my neck, not squeezing, just holding me there.
“Say it again,” he rasps, jaw tight, cheekbones cutting sharper beneath flushed skin, his every muscle strung with need.
“Say what?”
“That you want me to help you remember.”
I look into those burning green eyes, my brain telling me this is a bad idea but my body screaming at me to keep going.
“Make me remember,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “So that I never forget again.”
It’s the most honest I’ve been about anything in a long time, and I don’t know what it is about this man that makes it so frighteningly easy to be myself. To just react and not worry about how he will receive it.
He shoves my dress higher around my waist and groans. “Fucking beautiful.”
One hand traces my hip before his fingers slide between my legs. The movement is slow and deliberate, making me gasp. I can feel how wet I am, how close I am to coming undone just from this.
“I want to take my time with you,” he says against my mouth. “But I don’t know how long we have before someone interrupts us.”
My answer is a moan as his mouth finds my neck, and then trails open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin of my collarbone until I’m shaking in his arms.
He stills, his breath hot against my skin. “Last chance. Once I start, I’m not stopping until I make you forget that asshole who made you doubt yourself.”
My pulse hammers.
“For the love of god, stop talking,” I manage to say, voice ragged. “And fuck me.”
He nudges my knees wider until I’m completely open to him. “I plan to.”